Travis Clayton (left) celebrates scoring a goal to put the Mudbugs up 5-3 in the final moments of Game 5 of their Berry Conference Final. / Douglas Collier/The Times

Travis Clayton stands 5-foot-6, but his toughness is unquestioned. He's survived 15 years in the often-brutal sport of professional hockey. Sunday, the long-term effects -- a re-arranged nose, scarred face and missing teeth -- and short-term wounds -- a multi-colored bruise around, and stitches underneath, his right eye -- were obvious.

As the enormity of Sunday's events converged at the CenturyTel Center, Clayton, whose tenure in the Central Hockey League is unparalleled, succumbed to something that couldn't be bandaged up or played through.

The wizened Mudbugs veteran was reduced to tears and rendered speechless after his Bossier-Shreveport Mudbugs captured a berth in the Presidents' Cup Finals.

It's tough to play hockey. It's tougher to lose your mom.

Clayton's goal with less than 14 seconds left in Game 5 of the Berry Conference Finals put the final dagger in the Allen Americans and capped an emotional, eventually overwhelming Mother's Day for No. 38.

"When he scores that goal and knows that's the icing that puts this away, today I don't think it could have happened to a better guy," Mudbugs head coach Scott Muscutt said. "He's a phenomenal person, a phenomenal leader, phenomenal father, phenomenal husband -- I have nothing but respect for him."

The nerves surrounding Sunday's potential clincher were complex for the 35-year-old Clayton.

Despite a CHL-record 880 games played (he's 135 clear of former Wichita teammate Jason Duda), Clayton hadn't been to the Finals since his rookie season in 1998. He admits the success early in his career led to a cliché attitude.

"I was thinking I'm going to be there plenty of times," Clayton said. "Fourteen years later, here I am. I tell the young guys, 'You may only get one shot at it; you may as well make the most of it.'"

Adding to the mix for Game 5 was the pregame performance by his wife, Toby, who made her national anthem debut.

"I knew she could sing, but she wasn't sure if she should do it - for me," Clayton said. "I said, 'Just go do it.' She did a great job. I was nervous for her. She did awesome."

Sunday was also Clayton's first Mother's Day without his beloved mother Joyce, who passed away Feb. 7.

"It was tough for me," said Clayton, as tears began to form. "She had the best seat up there."

Said teammate Simon Mangos: "It was definitely an emotional day for him. For him to get the clincher like that, I'm sure it was a pretty good feeling for him."

Mangos speaks from experience. Not on the ice -- his 430 professional games aren't yet halfway to Clayton's total -- but from the heart. The defenseman's mother, Fay, was killed in an auto accident the week before this season began.

Unknowingly fitting at the time, the Claytons "were there the whole time" for Simon and his wife, Pamela.

"Unfortunately," Mangos said, the friendship and the bond between the families became tighter when tragedy struck again four months later and the Mangos couple returned the support.

"He's such a good person and has so much character," Mangos said of Clayton.

While genuine and meaningful, Clayton's support for the Mangos family was certainly in character.

"I won't even pretend that I can do justice to what Travis Clayton has meant to our organization and what Travis Clayton has meant to this entire league," Muscutt said.

Following 11 seasons with Wichita, Clayton chose to try his hand at hockey along the Red River.

"I came here three years ago because I wanted to win a championship. I knew Shreveport was the right place," Clayton said.

He had a partner when he decided to take a chance on Bossier-Shreveport. But in that respect, he was alone Sunday.

Someone else was missing.

Joe Blaznek, a teammate for half of Clayton's career, was on the forward's mind following the victory. The duo thrived together in Wichita, amassing points in bunches and making four playoff appearances in four seasons. Blazek spent one year in Corpus Christi before being reunited with Clayton in Bossier City in 2008.

The pair split when Blaznek was traded to Quad City in January.

"Yeah, it's tough," Clayton said of Blaznek's absence. "Blaz and I went through a lot of stuff in Wichita. I love Blaz, he's a great guy and a great friend. That's sports; it's a business. I'm sure he's rooting for us. We're still buddies -- hopefully, we can win it for him, too."

"I still enjoy it. It's just fun being in the room with the guys and just competing. All guys say same thing - they'd miss the group of guys and the competition," Clayton said. "It was tough; had a few losing seasons in Wichita. It's all worth it now, so hopefully we can get four wins and hoist the Cup."

And then the words became tough to deliver again. When asked what it would mean to finally lift the Presidents' Cup and punctuate this volatile season, Clayton broke down. The confluence of Sunday's emotions had finally become paralyzing.

The inability to utter a single word said it all.

It would mean everything. He just wished a couple of people were there to come along for the ride.